My Twisted Rose
by poplarleaves
Summary: Contestshipping.  Drew and May have been traveling together for five years, but neither one has admitted their feelings. The roses have run out, the words have become short. But during a visit to Slateport, they might have a second chance at love...
1. Longings

It had been almost five years since they had started traveling together, but he still could not keep his eyes off of her. Hair still damp from the shower, her slender figure clothed in Teddiursa-print pajamas, May was cuter than usual. Of course, Drew gave her no more than a cool glance before resuming reading, but it was enough to burn the image into his mind for another night.

Oblivious, May smiled at him cheerfully. "What are you reading?" she asked brightly.

"Some teenage romance novel that has fangirls raving. Don't ask. It's been getting progressively sappier and trashier."

"You sure are positive as usual," remarked his roommate, hanging up her towel to dry. The instant her back turned, his eyes flickered over her curves. "Well, at least you gave it a chance."

"Only because Harley talked me into it," Drew sighed. "He probably just enjoys seeing me writhe in pain."

"Did you just buy it?"

"Yeah, at the Center's bookshop."

"Oh. I was thinking of browsing there."

"It's pretty new, but they have some good titles. We can get coffee there too, before checking out."

"Sounds good."

_And how about a date after that? _he almost added, but he stopped himself in time. What was he afraid of? Rejection? Awkwardness? The destruction of a friendship he couldn't live without?

Dusk was descending, soft and slow, outside the window. As each page of his book fell into deeper darkness, Drew reached for the lamp cord, but stopped himself. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as May brushed out her hair, each stroke an invitation, each pause a tease. The harsh glare of a fluorescent lamp wouldn't do her justice, ran his mind. But then she looked up and saw him staring, and the spell was broken.

"Why don't you turn on the light?" she asked quietly.

"Oh. Sure."

The lamp came alive with a buzz, and in his mind Drew sighed. What did he want, anyway? What did he think could happen? The childish rose-throwing had fizzled out years ago, but he was somehow still smitten. And through all of the fights, the competition, the insults and silent treatments, after five years they were still traveling together.

Without noticing, he had leaned his head back to gaze out the window, into the distance where, perhaps, his idle thoughts might become reality. _Maybe, if I stop being a wuss,_ he thought sleepily, and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>May awoke with a start. Sunlight was already streaming through the window, blindingly white as it struck the desk - and Drew's sleeping form. Lips slightly parted, he leaned back in an pose of enchanted slumber, the lines of his face in striking contrast to the smooth waves of his hair. For a long moment, May held her breath. The desire to kiss him on those tantalizingly vulnerable lips suddenly gripped her, and she felt her stomach clench tight. But no, she couldn't do that; he was "just a friend," a friend who had challenged her, rivaled her, traveled alongside her. He was just a very good friend, that was all.<p>

_A friend you can't help being attracted to, _whispered an insidious voice in the back of her mind.

Bringing herself under control, she let out a breath and looked away. Then she moved forward and gave him a shake.

"Time to wake up," she called.

Drew blinked awake. "What time is it?" he asked blearily.

"Seven. If we want to get to Slateport in time for the festival registration, we have to leave by eight."

"We have time," he sighed, and closed his eyes again. "Wake me up at nine-thirty."

"When did you sleep?"

"Around the time you went to sleep."

"You left the lamp on all night," May suddenly realized, and switched it off quickly.

"Sorry, my bad."

She sighed. Then she allowed herself a small liberty and ruffled his hair-which produced an effect she wouldn't have dreamed of. Drew's eyes opened, slowly, to look at her, the perfect shade of envy green, a greedy, selfish, desiring green. And in that first moment, his gaze filled with her, only her, and reached out to possess her-

And then he closed his eyes and looked away. He sat up, sighed, and stretched. Nothing had happened; only something in a figment of May's imagination. Where were the taunts, the teases, the jokes he used to make? Now she got long, contemplative silences punctuated by furtive looks that she caught from him ever so often.

"Fine," he said. "I'll get up."

"Okay."

They went through their daily routine: May would take the bathroom first while Drew changed, and Drew took the bathroom while May changed. As she waited, her head wrapped in a towel, she thought about that look in his eyes she had seen. Had she seen it or had she imagined it? Somehow it had rendered her insides to mush. Embarrassed, she put a hand to her face, feeling herself blush. What was she, a thirteen-year-old? She had dated guys before. Well, two: Brenden, the son of one of her father's friends, and Gary Oak, Ash's old rival. Neither had lasted very long. But what was the point of even thinking about this? Drew was just a friend. Aside from those roses and the unusual interest he had in her when they were twelve, he had never shown any sign of wanting to be... _romantic... _with her. And in a way, that was good. The tabloids and celebrity magazines would explode at any hint of a romance, just as it did a few years ago, when someone found they were traveling together. Both of them had handled it carefully, speaking clearly in interviews, never leaving space for people to say that the two of them admitted to being a couple. Certain words were chosen after much debate, certain strategies were implemented. In the end, the coverage died down, though many were still suspicious. Whenever she returned home to Petalburg, she always found hate letters from irate fangirls.

"Maybe we should just stop traveling together, if it's going to cause so much trouble," she had suggested one day, after an especially grueling interview. Her heart had felt heavy when she said it, but it was the obvious course of action. It might make them seem guilty at first, but at least it would die out eventually Then Drew had done something that had made her heart leap.

"No," he had said firmly. "I'm not leaving you. I can't imagine not being like this."

Her face had reddened, just as it did now, and she wasn't sure, but he had seemed embarrassed as well. Then she had smiled and hugged him quickly and let go quickly. And that had been the end of it.

But now, for some reason-

Drew walked out of the bathroom, hair still damp, clothed in a button-up shirt and well-fitting jeans. Their eyes met.

Of course she had to say something. "I've finished packing my stuff; have you?"

It was a question with an obvious answer, since the room looked immaculate.

"Yeah, everything except what's in the bathroom. You look like you're done too."

"I am. So," she said brightly, "ready to go?"

"Sure, if you are." He grinned at her, and the oppressive mood she had felt since yesterday suddenly lifted.

It was mid-January, but since they were far enough south that the weather promised to be mild and warm by afternoon. May and Drew were heading to Slateport from Mauville, taking the walking route along the large grassy area below the bike path. Trainers abounded in this area, so May anticipated a few challengers on the way. There was a steady breeze coming in from the water that surrounded the patch of land , and in its caprice it blew a little stronger than usual. May worried her bandanna might be blown off.

Pulling out a Pokenav, she checked their position and determined that it would take them another six hours to reach Slateport. From the north end of Slateport they needed only a few more minutes to reach the Contest Hall. It was a familiar route that she had taken several times in the past few years, but she still felt the need to check the Pokenav every so often.

"You seem worried," remarked Drew. Playfully, his hand reached over and snatched the Pokenav from her hands. "You know you don't need this."

"Drew!" she laughed. This was what she loved about him- his teasing, which had such a childish feeling to it yet always had a purpose. "It's okay. I'm not worrying or anything."

He raised an eyebrow at her but handed it back with a smile. _He just wanted me to lighten up, _she realized, and smiled as well.

But there was something missing. Where was his usual comeback, his tease and counter-tease and that infuriatingly triumphant look he always had in his eyes? Now she saw a longing, an uncertainty, behind the playfulness, and it unsettled her. It couldn't be what she wanted it to be, could it? It couldn't be the stirrings of love, because no boy had that kind of self-control. Knowledge of her friends' exploits and her personal experiences dictated that it wasn't possible. If Gary or Brendan had traveled with her for five years they could not have kept their words or actions from betraying their desire. Drew could not be any different, despite how mature he might seem. It must be something else.

The path to Slateport had little shade, abounding mostly with tall grasses. Each footstep they took made a swishing noise followed by a soft thud as their feet hit the ground. For a while they continued in silence, as they usually did. About half an hour after they had begun, though, they happened upon a small area framed by trees. The morning sun had not yet reached its apex, but already its rays had begun to burn. May was glad to stop and rest beside one of the trees, though its cover was scarce. Mesmerized, she watched as Drew took a swig from his water bottle and a drop of liquid trickled out from the corner of his mouth. She caught herself staring just a second before he finished, and looked away.

Though he didn't catch her stare, Drew saw her shoulders sag as she turned away but interpreted it as relief. "Tired?"

"Not even close," she returned, a challenge in her voice. In answer, her companion cocked his head at her and grinned.

"Don't worry, May; I'm not questioning your strength, though how you could possibly keep up with me is a wonder."

"When I've beaten you at everything already? Come on, Drew, I know you can come up with something wittier than that."

Scoffing, Drew flicked his hair to the side with an arrogant gesture. "You haven't beaten me in everything, May. Don't think so highly of yourself."

"Name one thing," she taunted.

And here he paused, which surprised her. When Drew was in his favorite element-snarking-he never missed a beat. But now he was taking a whole twenty seconds to pause.

"Love," he finally said.

Now it was May's turn to hesitate. "What do you mean by 'love'?"

"Romance. Dating. Attracting the opposite gender. The usual."

She spluttered. "When did-okay, if I say so myself, I think I'm pretty attractive to the opposite gender."

"With those tacky bandannas you wear? And your overgrown bangs and your skinny, curveless figure?"

"I _like _my bandannas! And my bangs! And for your infornation, some guys prefer skinny girls over fat, disgustingly curvy ones." May huffed, her ears reddening from the insult. Of all things to say, he had gone for the worst imaginable. He seemed to realize this and backed off. "Sorry, I didn't think it would offend you so much."

"Too late. And if you want my opinion, I'd say that you-with your cocky, arrogant, egotistical attitude and your girly hair flipping and tight jeans-could pass for gay. You call that attractive? No wonder Harley hits on you all the time."

"Well, I _was_ going to compare the two of us in terms of how many significant others we've had but clearly you're going by personal opinion now," Drew said in a disgruntled voice.

"Not just any personal opinion; _my_ personal opinion, because from this point on yours doesn't matter."

A small pause grew into a long pause before Drew spoke again.

"I'm sorry."

"Sure," May said bitingly.

Drew sighed as May fell silent. He had hit a sore spot, he knew, because there had been an awkward time before she had dated Brendan when she had been afraid of being completely unattractive. Back then he had even comforted her and said some cheesy lines about how looks didn't matter, though in the real world, they did. She had looked at him with shining eyes and he had thought that, perhaps, he could be the one person who truly didn't care about how she looked. And that perhaps she would realize it and she would feel the same about him.

But three years later, she had been with Brendan and Gary and he was hurting her and it didn't matter anymore. What was he still clinging to? That despite everything that had happened-or hadn't happened-she might have some feeling for him? What a hopeless loser he was, not knowing when to give up.

The silence grew longer and deeper, accentuated by the stillness of the field. Even the rustlings of wild Pokemon in the undergrowth ceased. Even when they left the gangly trees and their sparse shade, neither of them uttered a word. Nowadays, silences like this happened more and more often. Drew's right hand formed a fist in frustration. Why was it like this? Something had grown up between them, ugly and awkward, that constricted each word and action he made toward her. What was it? The remnants of his infatuation, twisting his heart so that he couldn't look at her as just a friend? And so his bitterness was forcing itself out in scathing words, condescending words. It was like he was becoming his cocky eleven-year-old self all over again, and every cell of his body loathed it.

_I'll make it up to her. __I'll say sorry somehow_.


	2. Apology

Afternoon was waning when they finally reached the Slateport Contest Hall. Neither of them had said more than five words to the other during the walk there, but Drew at least had a plan for reconciliation. May, however, was still being obstinate, either refusing to speak or attacking Drew with piercing words.

As they neared the contest hall, May felt nostalgic-the Slateport contest was the first one she had ever entered. Coincidentally, it was where she had met and faced Drew for the first time as well. Just taking in the scene of coordinators and their Pokémon was enough to make her remember her debut jitters. A small smile lifted the gloom from her face.

She and Drew registered quickly; the deadline for this year's Hoenn Grand Festival was six o'clock, and they had arrived a little after five. Looking at the clock, she realized how long she had gone without speaking a civil phrase to Drew. It had been more than seven hours since their quarrel, and she was getting tired of the silence. Somewhere inside her mind she knew it was childish, but she had been very upset at Drew's insult. It hadn't been so much the content of his words as their mere existence. Sure, he had said worse when he was younger, but now it was different. Now she trusted him.

After registering, they hurried out of the contest hall, which was already buzzing with excitement. As they had each won the Hoenn Grand Festival once and placed in the finals or quarterfinals the rest of the time, they often had to evade swarms of fans waiting to bombard them with questions, among other things. It used to be flattering; now it was just obnoxious.

At the exit, Drew turned to May. "There's something I have to do by myself. Is it okay if I call you on your Pokenav later?"

"Sure," she replied. Without another word she headed toward the beach.

She kept up a brisk pace until she was sure he couldn't see her anymore, then let her pace slow to a natural walking speed. Though he seemed apologetic, she still had to make it clear that he had crossed the line. What a jerk, to make her trust him and then attack her from inside.

But perhaps her treatment of him was just as unfair. Her footsteps slowed to a stop. It had only been one comment, and he had apologized immediately after. Was it such a crime to say something wrong by mistake?

Even so, it had hurt. She was already painfully aware of how attractive Drew was compared to her. All of him screamed sexy: sexy hair, sexy face, sexy body, sexy voice, and most of all, sexy eyes. Damn his sexiness. It was even worse when he rubbed it in her face like that. She knew he had dated several girls all just as gorgeous as he was - slim yet curvy, with model-perfect faces. In fact, two of them _had_ been models. Next to those puffed-up poodles, May looked like a deflated little terrier. If she had ever thought he was out of her league, she knew it now more than ever.

May began to walk again, but now she looked around her. She had wandered into Slateport's busiest outdoor market, where brightly colored booths lined a large street that led to the beach. Many sold ocean-related trinkets, foods, and apparel, though some displayed handmade crafts as well. With a jolt, May realized she had walked into a crowd. Residents, tourists and Pokémon trainers flowed around her in an unceasing current. Everyone seemed cheerful, energized by the excitement of an outdoor market and the salty sea air. No one traveled alone. A couple here, a family there - and all of a sudden May felt lonelier than ever.

Just then, a flash of red caught her eye. May moved toward it. On a table marked "Glass Sculptures" lay a rose pin fashioned out of red and green glass. It was no larger than May's thumb, but each leaf and petal was exquisitely crafted: she could see every vein, every dewdrop. The effect was breathtaking. May stood there for a long time, a strange feeling welling up in her chest. For a moment, she remembered the first rose Drew had ever given her.

But then the moment was gone, and though some part of her longed to buy the rose, her mind rebelled against it. What would she do with something like that, anyway? It would probably break while she was traveling. It was pretty, but that was all. For it to be hers forever was a fantasy she could never achieve.

* * *

><p>After May had walked off, Drew had watched her go and then headed immediately to the Harton.<p>

The Harton was located on Slateport's oceanfront, an elegant rise of glass and steel. It was frequented by celebrities, though the only time Drew had ever stayed the night was during the contest where he had met May. Dimly he remembered boasting about staying there as opposed to staying at the Pokemon Center. What a spoiled, conceited brat he had been. This time, though, he would be staying there for different reasons.

When he had finished his preparations there, he called May. Now the clock read six and the sun was starting to set.

"Hello, May?"

"Yes?"

"Where are you?"

"The Slateport Market. Where are you?"

"I'll tell you later. Wait right there; I'll find you."

"Why?"

But Drew had already hung up and called a taxi. The market was located right in the middle of the city, and the Harton was on the western side. By the time the cab had reached the market, fifteen minutes had passed. Drew told the driver to let him off just outside the throng of booths, and he broke into a sprint.

When he saw her he stopped. May stood amid a shower of bouquets, her face lit in a glow from the setting sun, while sprays of lily of the valley cascaded around her as the breeze caressed her hair. Now that evening was near, the crowds had thinned, their sound a murmur. And through it all, the scent of roses was filling the air. Drew couldn't tell whether his heart was racing from the run or from the sight.

"Took you a while," said May, noticing him. Her tone was softer than before. "Where were you?"

"You'll find out soon. But first-" he ignored her protest and stepped past her to place a few bills on the flower merchant's table, "-these are for you."

In one gesture he handed her a bouquet bursting with red roses. He could tell she was taken aback; her mouth dropped slightly and he could almost swear that a blush suffused her cheeks. Fervently he hoped following his impulse had been a good idea.

She took the bouquet, her eyes questioning and disbelieving, unsure and maybe a little afraid. Drew knew he had to break the silence, so he said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have insulted you earlier."

"It's okay," she replied quietly. "I overreacted anyway. So... where are we going now?"

Without replying, he called up a taxi. When they had stepped inside and the cabbie had asked for their destination, Drew said, "The Harton."

"What?" said May. "Isn't that the one by the beach? The really tall glass one?"

"If there's another Harton around here, please tell me," Drew said mischievously. For the first time that afternoon, he smiled. "I just thought that if I was going to apologize, I might as well go all the way."

"But," sputtered May, "why the Harton?"

"I've always wanted to visit it again," Drew said smoothly. "What do you want me to say? That I'm not really apologizing and that I'm just using it as an excuse to indulge myself? Okay, I am."

"Drew!" she laughed, bashful. Mind whirling, she hugged the bouquet closer to her, feeling its crinkly mass press against her chest as the intoxicating aroma of roses filled her lungs. Wasn't this a bit much for a simple apology? But he had said he wanted to go there anyway. What did it mean? Did it mean anything?

"So did you buy anything at the market?" Drew asked, after several moments of silence. May shook her head.

"No, I didn't see anything I wanted, aside from a rose pin that looked nice, but it looked too fragile. Not like I could use it for anything, anyway."

"What kind of rose pin?"

She looked at him, surprised that he would be so interested. "It was really detailed. Made of glass."

"Oh. Sounds nice," he said. May watched him suspiciously, but she could tell nothing from his expression. For a moment she debated asking him more about the Harton but decided against it. If he wanted to be mysterious, she would let him.

Fifteen minutes of small talk later, she found herself being escorted out of the cab and through the a set of double doors that led into a spacious lobby. Instead of approaching the front desk as she expected, Drew handed her a card key and led her in the opposite direction while asking a porter to take the bouquet to their room. They proceeded down a hall, a short flight of stairs, and then through an open courtyard where a luxurious fountain gushed, colored lights illuminating each jet with a different hue. Mesmerized by the richness of her surroundings, May almost didn't notice that Drew had brought her to the entrance of a restaurant. When she did, she recognized the name immediately-the Solabel was one of the Harton's best, a high-class, high-priced venue that she had heard of only in more privileged social circles. Most of what she knew was that it served trainers and coordinators of celebrity status. Of course she was a celebrity herself, but restaurants like the Solabel required reservations made months in advance, and the prices were bank-breaking at best. She hadn't had the time nor had the patience to make a visit worth the trouble, yet Drew had somehow managed to secure a table for two.

A server led them to a covert little alcove away from the entrance and, after the initial courtesies, left them. May wasted no time in asking her companion how he had acquired a table at the Solabel without a reservation, though she already had an idea.

"My parents," stated Drew, without a hint of conceit. "I'm sure you know that they own a fairly large textile company called Zensheng, Inc."

"I figured that was it. Still, all of this for one apology? You really don't have to go this far," she protested.

"No, I do have to go this far."

"Why?"

He gave her a long look. At that moment their server brought them water, and they thanked her. A long pause ensued. Drew seemed lost in thought. Just as May was feeling disappointed that she would never know the answer to her question, Drew spoke up again.

"I would go this far and farther for you any day."

The sentence dropped like dye into water, coloring May's face a shade of pink. For once in her life she truly appreciated the subtleties of dim lighting. Did she dare ask another "why"? What could the answer be, and would she accept that answer, whatever it was?

In the end, she refrained from asking as their server returned and took their orders, but now the silence between them pressed on May's heart. Perhaps he had wanted her to ask. No, it couldn't be. They had both "friend zoned" each other since long ago, not by a voiced agreement, of course, but through a silent understanding.

And now he was throwing her a whole bouquet of roses. And a high-class dinner. And a room at one of Slateport's finest hotels.

_He must want something, and I don't think it's just forgiveness_, said her mind, even as she became mesmerized by the elegance with which he ate his meal. _I have to ask._

"Drew... really... why are you doing this?"

Her rival and companion didn't hesitate to answer this time. "I wanted to make it up to you."

"For what you said earlier? It wasn't that big of a deal-"

"No, not just that. Actually, what I've done so far isn't even close to 'making it up to you.' I'll just have to pay in installments," he added with a smile.

May, on the other hand, was not smiling. "Drew, if you're going to be so mysterious about everything, I might as well just leave, because it seems like I'm never going to find out what you want from me."

"I'll tell you later. I promise."

With a resigned sigh, May continued her meal. This would be a long night.


	3. Decision

They finished eating with little trouble and retired to their suite where they were greeted by a vaseful of the roses Drew had bought before. The two of them spent some time exploring and marveling at the room's luxuries, but their usual routine still held: May took the bathroom first, then Drew occupied it, and then they went to sleep.

Except that tonight Drew couldn't sleep. He had left the bathroom, turned off the lights, and then sat there in the darkness, thinking. From across the room he could just barely hear May's soft breathing. What was she dreaming of? He wished it were him. Had she understood him? Had she, tonight, realized that he had wanted her, loved her all along?

These were useless thoughts. How could she know what he meant? They had traveled together for five years and he had never said a single word of love to her. And besides that, she knew his romantic history. She, with her habit of taking things at face value, would never think that he had been trying to make her jealous. Of course, he had lost hope in succeeding once he had realized that it wasn't working. May was simply too... simple. Though he adored her for it, loved the cuteness of it even, it was also frustrating. And so he had to tell her directly.

With a sigh he stood, pulled on a jacket and left the suite. Once outside, he found the nearest exit to the beach and stepped through. Though the night air was cold, he didn't mind; it made him feel clearer, fresher, despite his heart jumping at the thought of May. Now he could really think without her presence just a few feet away from him. Was this merely an unhealthy obsession? The Grand Festival was only in a few more days, and yet all he could think of was May. Had it been like this last year, too? At least he had been able to sleep. This was just ridiculous. What did he love about her anyway? She was cute, true, but she could be so dense. He remembered so many instances when he had had to save her from being duped by Harley for the millionth time. At least now the flamboyant cactus-lover had become less of a petty, malicious sabotager and more of a friend, though Drew still hesitated to label him as such. Harley had crossed the line too many times for Drew to trust him. May, on the other hand, seemed to trust her purple-haired rival, albeit with reduced gullibility. Occasionally Harley pulled little pranks, but they were mostly harmless. Despite that, Drew still felt protective of May whenever Harley appeared.

Protective? Yes, that was it. May radiated innocence, and he couldn't help but want to be her knight in shining armor. She was childish sometimes, but that was part of her charm. Her bright personality and optimistic outlook contrasted with his cynical nature. Traveling with her for five years had changed him, he knew. His soul had opened to her like a flower to the sunshine, even as infatuation had blossomed in his heart. She could be childish, but it was a sweet childishness, not a mean one.

A sudden feeling of longing possessed him. He wanted her so badly, in every single way. To have her in his arms, to lavish her with gifts, to speak words of desire and hear her respond-anything and everything that meant she was his. How had he survived when he had heard she was dating Brendan? Each day had been pure torture, and the press releases hadn't helped, covering every detail of the relationship. He had ached with regret for not telling her earlier, but he hadn't learned. Gary Oak had come along a few months afterwards, and he had been worse. Gary had even travelled with them for three months. It had taken all of Drew's willpower to keep himself from punching the daylight out of Gary Oak.

Damn it all. He had given her roses, but he had never given her the truth.

* * *

><p>Morning came, and with it an opportunity to practice for the Festival. Coordinators had rented practice areas all over town, and as May and Drew walked by, they sized up their competition.<p>

"It looks like it'll be a lot of fun this year," said May, feeling energetic and ready to go after a good night's sleep. "Look at that Swellow! Did you see it pull off that Steel Wing and Aerial Ace combo? And that Rapidash did a really nice Flame Wheel, too."

"We're not here to fangirl, May; we're here to defeat them," Drew said coolly. He scanned the area. "It's too crowded here. Want to try the beach?"

"Sure."

The beach turned out to be almost as crowded as the inner city, but May and Drew managed to find an open area for their use. May began by calling out her Pokémon while Drew did the same.

"Beautifly! Delcatty! Venusaur! Blaziken! Wartortle! Glaceon!"

"Roserade, Absol, Flygon, Masquerain, Gallade, Butterfree!"

Excited, the Pokemon immediately began to chatter and move around, sensing the tension and energy in the air. _The Grand Festival!_ they seemed to exclaim. It was an event they all looked forward to each year. In their vivacity, Delcatty and Glaceon began to taunt Absol while Gallade and Blaziken jumped and sparred. Suddenly May laughed, and all order was abandoned as the Pokémon went wild. It took Drew a lot of head-shaking and firm orders to bring his team back to sanity, and even then May's Pokémon didn't calm down until she finally stopped laughing and put on her guys-I'm-being-serious-here face.

After ordering their Pokémon to run laps, May and Drew started to focus on individual Pokémon and their appeals. At this point a crowd of spectators had gathered, and without looking, May knew how many eyes were on them. After winning or placing in all of the past five Grand Festivals they had attended, May and Drew were hot topics. _Coordinator Weekly _had featured each of them on its cover after their respective wins, May twice and Drew once. Likely as not, this crowd was forming not just because they recognized their level of skill but also because they recognized their faces. May could hear the calls for "Signature please?" already.

Eventually a girl of about thirteen stepped up to May and, during an interlude, spoke. "Are you really May Maple?" she squeaked, eyes round as a Spinda's.

"Yes, I am." May smiled her friendliest smile. "How can I help you?"

"Ohmigosh. It's really you! And Drew Hathorne! You're even cooler in the flesh than on TV! Wait, wait, you're dating, right? All my friends say you aren't but I'm so sure-"

"No, we're really just friends," said May, but the fan continued her spiel, "Oh! Oh! Can I take a picture with you? Do you mind? I mean I know you're practicing and everything but it would only take a second-"

"Sorry, we're in the middle of something; maybe later," said Drew, but the fan continued, "Really, I'm so honored to be able to meet you in the flesh and ohmigosh, I am just so in love with your amazing combos! Ohmigosh, did your Roserade just do a Solar Beam? Eee! That's my favorite!"

While the fan and dozens of others just like her snapped madly with sparkly pink cameras, Drew motioned May away from the crowd. "Want to practice somewhere quieter later?" he suggested, eyeing the rabid fangirls. "It might be too busy here."

May perked up. "I know a good spot. You know that windy place we went to last time? It's just around the bend of this beach, if you remember."

"Perfect. Now let's finish this performance before we leave. It'll be good practice for our Pokémon."

Jumping back into the fray, Drew and May ordered their Pokémon into complicated combinations, moving in and out of each other's patterns as they wowed the crowd. That day they seemed especially in sync, May noted. They were in "the zone." The sand, the spray, and even the onlookers themselves became part of the performance as the two coordinators strove to weave their surroundings into their art. One moment the curve of Flygon's Dragon Claw rent the wave Wartortle's Rapid Spin created, only to be engulfed by Blaziken's Flame Wheel. Each move flowed into the next. Coordinator and Pokémon alike were fully immersed in their work, playing and battling as one, intertwined in a dance that changed its rhythm every second. This was the high they longed for-a living mosaic of grace, an elegance of infinite possibility. And somehow, May knew that only Drew could find this song with her.

When she finally came back to reality, May realized the audience was applauding them, and she smiled. Something had clicked just then, and she had liked it. Grinning, she glanced at Drew and saw the look on his face mirroring hers, and without thinking she flung her arms around him, laughing.

Then she looked into his face while still full of bubbly elation and was met by a strange expression passing over his face. His arms, holding her, suddenly pulled her closer, though not tightly. What was that look in his eyes? And why was her heart pounding in her ears?

But then reality returned and they faced their fans and thanked them and left the beach, discussing their Pokémon and the upcoming appeal round, looking forward to having lunch. Just two friends, being friendly.

Just friends.

* * *

><p>By now Slateport was packed with trainers and coordinators, all either participating in or watching the Grand Festival. Most seemed to have booked rooms at the Pokémon Center, though some were probably lodging at various hotels around the area. Thankfully, because everyone seemed in a hurry to grab lunch, Drew and May slipped past the crowds without being mobbed by fans, a feat they rarely achieved in crowded situations.<p>

In a less populated area, Drew and May found a quiet café and ordered for themselves and their Pokémon. Nobody at the café seemed to recognize them, which was a plus in Drew's opinion. He found it strange that he and May hadn't run into anyone they knew yet. Solidad was in Kanto, but most other high-ranking coordinators should be in Hoenn: Robert, Dawn, and, god forbid, Harley-

"Well, if it isn't my two favorite little cupcakes!"

"Oh God," May said drily, her face deciding whether to grimace or to laugh. Drew wholeheartedly agreed.

"Hello, Harley," said Drew, glancing at their new purple-haired companion. The flamboyant coordinator had mellowed over the years, but his temperament was the same as ever-petty, capricious, and sometimes downright mean. His pranks had harmed May in the past, though since Drew had started traveling with her Harley had toned down his malicious antics. He seemed to have sensed Drew's testosterone-laden, aggressive protectiveness.

Harley sidled closer to Drew. "Oh, pumpkin, I missed you so! And you too, May darling," he added quickly. "How have you been?"

"Great, until now," Drew said with a smile that turned into a glare.

May frowned at Drew. "It's nice to see you again, Harley," she said civilly. "Are you in the Grand Festival this year?"

"Oh, I certainly am! Look at these babies! Aren't they just precious?"

"Five ribbons! I guess we'll be seeing you in the top eight again this year."

"Maybe even earlier, cookie. Who knows? But I'm definitely going to win this year," said the green-clad coordinator in a darker tone. "You'll see."

Drew rubbed his temple. Harley's presence always irritated him. "I'll leave you two to gossip. I'm going to the bookstore," he declared. Though he didn't trust Harley, leaving the man alone with May for a few minutes wouldn't cause any harm. May was seventeen already anyway. "I'm getting the sequel to that book you recommended to me."

"You read it? I'm so flattered that you would take my recommendation!" Harley gushed.

"Only because you kept annoying me about it."

"Oh, but that was because I couldn't bear to see you pass up the chance to read something so delightful!"

"In that case I hope you never pity me again for not reading a teenage vampire novel," he said drily, and promptly left.

After Drew got up, Harley immediately took his seat. "So, fruitcake, what's cooking? I heard you two are staying at the Harton. Getting all cozy now, aren't you? I've been there myself a few times, but not with a special someone. What's it like, being with Mr. Sourpuss?"

"Harley, he's not 'special,' you know that," protested May. "Not in that way, anyway. You know what I mean. We're just friends, the same way we've been friends all this time."

"Ooh, that's harsh, girl. 'Just friends'? He's definitely got the hots for you. He was the one who decided to go to the Harton, right? See, he wants to make it special this year."

"He said he wanted to visit it again," May said lamely, making sure not to mention the other reason. Harley dismissed the excuse anyway.

"Just make sure to call me when he hands you a blooming bouquet of love."

"Harley!"

"Oh, come on, May. He's had his eyes on you for forever. The least you could do is show him that you know it."

"But I _don't _know it, Harley. He's been really nice and all, but I don't know..."

"Tell you what," said Harley abruptly. "Take my words, sleep on 'em, and watch him. If you find proof that he doesn't want to be you-know-what with you, I'll treat you and him to dinner. If you say that I'm right instead, you have to treat _me_ to dinner. Nothing too shabby either, or else he hears about our little bet. You in?"

May sighed. Why did Harley always have to be like this? "Sure."

"Yay! Now I've got to skedaddle, so I'll see you around, 'kay babycakes? Toodles!"

In a flash Harley was gone, leaving May with her thoughts, which threatened to be very dangerous very soon. Harley's words and their implications echoed in her mind, and suddenly she held her head and groaned. With the Grand Festival to worry about, she didn't have time for thinking about Drew. Why, of all times, did Harley have to bring up this subject?

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, the subject of May's attention browsed the aisles of a bookstore just down the street. He found the sequel to the book Harley had suggested to him, paid for it, and as he waited for his coffee in the adjoining shop, began reading. It was sort of a guilty pleasure; though his excuse for reading any kind of pulp fiction was that Harley had recommended it, he recognized that he himself enjoyed trashy, melodramatic fiction in his own perverse way. All the other areas of his life were dominated by strict discipline, and reading books that Harley would suggest was his way of letting go of his principles for just a short time. It was something that had, at first, dismayed him, but he'd shrugged it off. After all, everyone needed an outlet. His just happened to be romance novels.<p>

He skimmed the first few pages; the story of the first book was explained in brief while the dazzling description of the main male character was rehashed. The narrator, a teenage girl, gushed for several pages about how amazing and perfect her man was. But alas, their romance was forbidden, and all of a sudden a romantic rival appeared. Drew furrowed his brow. This early into the book and already there was a new rival? That was kind of abrupt, wasn't it-

"Order number two-oh-one," called the cashier, returning him to reality with a jolt. Shaking his head at his deep engrossment, he took his espresso and walked out the door, trying to obscure the all-too-noticeable cover of his book, which featured the suggestive sweep of a woman's bare back. If the press found out what he was reading, he would have no peace for the next three years, either from them, his fans, or even May. Though she knew he read from Harley's "Top Sappiest Romances" list once in a while, she was the last person he wanted to know that he made it a _habit_. Even worse, he would hate for her to think it was an _addiction. _He shuddered. What a nightmare _that_ would be. Not that it would ever happen, but seriously.

On his way back to the café, he skimmed the first chapter, which wasn't too long. The narrator was, again, gushing, but this time about how utterly devastated she would be if she could not be with her man.

"Every moment I'm away from him, I just can't help remembering his gorgeous eyes and face. And his smell! He's heavenly in every possible way. Each time I have to leave him, it's like daggers are digging through my heart."

_Oh, because obviously you know what _that_ feels like,_ thought Drew, thoroughly enjoying the chance for mental sarcasm. That was part of the appeal of these books; he could snark at them all he wanted. But then he came across a different passage.

"Sometimes I'm afraid that he doesn't know how much I love him. It seems like he does, but I'm never really sure. And the problem is I don't know how to tell him."

The words struck him for a moment. Why? It was an absurd, cheap romance, full of clichés, and yet the words had resonated with him. He knew why. All of his longings, yearnings, eventually came to this. His own feelings toward May said the same thing: that he loved her and had loved her for so long and yet he had no idea how to express it to her. Actions? Words? Roses? But what if he had misinterpreted her and she had never thought of him as more than a friend? What if she really meant what she said to everyone—that they were _just friends?_ That was the fear that always constricted the words in his throat, gripping his hand as he reached out for hers.

He couldn't go on like this. He had to know. The hotel, the restaurant, the bouquet, the beach, the festival—all would boil down to something, one thing, and even if he was rejected, even if he could never travel with her like this ever again, he had to confess his feelings to her.


End file.
